


homosexually explicit literature

by econony



Category: Homestuck
Genre: @ god save my soul before its too late, Bad movies, Blowjobs, Drug Use, Edging, M/M, PWP, Voyeurism, Weed, dom/sub elements, poma is incredibly original and nothing hurts, sorry momther, this is gonna be one hell of a ride guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:25:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/econony/pseuds/econony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>wherein two gay boys fuck a lot.</p><p>(a one-shot porn series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a very late birthday present for nik.

**Author's Note:**

> holy fucking spaceballs, i guess i'm making a pornshot series.  
>  ~~this doesn't make up for gross lack of smooth rainbow updates i PROMISE PROMISE i'll get to that soon~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know what getting high is like! ヽ(；▽；)ノ  
> so this is a very late birthday present for nik, she turned 18 in january and even though i wasn't allowed to buy her like, a dragon dildo or something, i still wrote her porn. okay.

“But Daaaaave. AP Bio homework is bullshit, I tell you. Bull- _shit_.”  
  
“Okay, but what am _I_ gonna do about it, Eggs?” you sigh. You’re currently laying on your stomach, across your bed, and talking to your best friend and boyfriend, John Egbert. As usual, he’s complaining needlessly about some trivial thing and how he’s in such a bad mood about it and the world is basically going to fucking end if you don’t do anything about it, Dave, because obviously you can do so much to fix his opinions and feelings about homework. It’s not like you have your own homework or anything, baka.  
  
“Don’t call me that, _Davey_. I’m just gonna give up for the night. Can I come over?” You wince at the nickname. You never should have left John alone with Bro for more than 5 minutes. Bro is like that obnoxious parent who talks about when their kid wet the bed that one time when they were four and shows people all of the baby pictures, all of them. (You totally did not wet the bed, okay, you spilled water all over the sheets. _Honest_.)  
  
“Sure.” You flip over so you’re on your back, then sit up. “We could smoke if you want.” You vaguely remember having some pot left somewhere in your closet.  
  
“Yeah, okay.” You can hear John going down the stairs and covering the mouthpiece of his phone as he calls out to his dad he’ll be at your place.  
  
Ten odd minutes later, John walks into the apartment (because locking doors is for chumpsticks) and you’re still digging through your closet, searching for your bong through the vast expanse of what Rose (and your Bro) have taken to calling, “The Bermuda Closet”. The name stuck. It was completely accurate.  
  
“Hey, bunghole,” John smirks, standing in the doorway to your room. He tries to enter, almost tripping over all the shit on the ground. He finally makes it over to your bed and flops down on it. “Clean your room, Dave, christ. Someone’s gonna trip and fall and die one day. You’ll be guilty of murder. What’ll you do with the body?”  
  
“I’ll shove it into the Bermuda Closet,” you mumble, just as you pull out your bong. You give a little cheer under your breath. You turn to John and toss it to him, and he lets out a yelp as he catches it awkwardly. “Hey, warn me before you throw shit at me!!”  
  
You sit back on the bed and he leaves the room to get it ready. He comes back with it in one hand, a lighter in the other.  
  
A few minutes later, you’re both lying against the wall next to your bed, passing the bong back and forth and kissing in between hits. And inevitably, you both start feeling so hungry. You agree that it would be a fantastic idea to go and raid your kitchen pantry. So you do.  
  
After much hunting, you find a bag of unopened Doritos at the very back of the top cabinet. John cheers and you sit on the couch and devour them with him.  
  
So kissing is a thing that happens next, apparently. And this isn’t sweet fluffy kissing, either. This is full-blown sloppy makeouts. John tastes like Doritos and pot smoke but you really couldn’t give two shits (you probably taste the same), because John is one hell of a good kisser, if you overlook the teeth. Which you definitely can.  
  
Soon you climb into his lap and straddle him, and Jesus H. Dicks you’ve never moaned like this in your whole life. John reaches down to grab your ass and you rut against his crotch. John moves his hand around to undo both of your pants, and in the moment you think it’s pretty hot that he can do all of that one-handed, the other gripping your waist.  
  
He takes both of your cocks in his hand and begins making quick, hurried, erratic strokes, other hand back on your ass again. You can tell his coordination is slightly off because he’s high, but that really doesn’t matter to you because fuck, his hand is so warm and you want him _inside_ you, holy damn.  
  
You pull away roughly, still bucking into his amazing piano fingers, and bite your lip. “Oh god, John, fuck me, please,” you moan, you don’t even fucking care how needy you sound right now, you’re like, three times as needy as you seem. John gives you a lopsided, mischievous smirk and harshly whispers, “Beg me for it,” licking the shell of your ear. A large shiver goes down your spine and hits you right in the cock.  
  
“Please, John, ohmygod, you f-fuckin’... cocktease, just put it _in_ me, shit..” a somewhat desperate roll of your hips into John’s hand results in a slight tug of your hair from John’s other hand. It’s the Possessive Sexy John that always happens preceding a really good fuck. Oh man.  
  
“You’re being really greedy, Dave. If you’re greedy, I might not give you what you want.” He has that really dominant grin on and your cock is already twitching, aces, Strider, you’re such a wanton toolbag.  
  
“John..?” you ask pleadingly. You don’t need to say anything else.  
  
And then there’s that stupid sexy smirk again. “Well,” he nips at your neck and collarbone, “I’m a pretty nice guy. So I suppose I’ll indulge you.” You practically sigh with relief.  
  
“You know what to do, Dave,” he says, looking at you expectantly. Of course you do. You nod, climbing off him and simultaneously slipping out of your jeans and boxers. Walking through the apartment with a huge boner is really no easy task, but you’ll have to manage if you want to do this. First-world problems, much.  
  
Your quest to get the lube is successfully completed and you somewhat hurriedly walk back into the living room, where John is now fully naked and lightly stroking himself. “Fucking finally, Dave, come on,” he grunts, motioning for you to come back over. You pull your shirt over your head and crawl back into his lap.  
  
You start lazily kissing as he pushes a finger inside of you. You flinch a bit at the coldness of the lube, but that’s pushed to the back of your mind when a sudden twist of John’s finger presses up _just right_ against your prostate. But then that fucker barely brushes against it the rest of the way. He absolutely loves to keep you on your toes, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it too.  
  
Finally, John pulls his fingers out and reaches down to wipe his hand on a stray paper napkin on the floor once you’re sufficiently prepared. You grab the lube and stroke him with it too, and before you know it you’re lowering yourself onto his dick. He groans loudly, the first sound he’s made so far.  
  
“Holy shit Dave, you’re so fucking tight and perfect I can’t,” he moans, resting a hand on your hip. You can hear the meaning behind it and it makes you tingle, that you’re his, only his, he loves you and you love him right the fuck back.  
  
Meanwhile you’re over here impaling yourself on John’s cock, and you’re a trembling, moaning, desperate mess. Your face probably looks so dumb right now, John is staring right at you, oh god―but then he kisses your neck, which causes you to lace your fingers with his and whine quietly, which causes him to jerk his hips upward, which causes you to cry out loudly because holy shit that was your fucking prostate oh christ.  
  
You start moving, using your legs to slide up and down, and John meets your halfway by nudging his hips up into you ever-so-slightly and the two of you have built a pretty good rhythm.  
  
He starts whispering some really goddamn sexy things in your ear, and soon you begin to notice your moans getting increasingly louder and squeakier and your legs start getting weak.  
  
“Look at you, Dave,” John says in a low, breathy voice, “You’re practically begging for me.” And it’s true, your thighs are trembling. “You’re mine, Dave. I want everyone to know. Just how should I show them?” He’s trying to keep a steady voice, but you can tell he’s getting close too. “Should I give you bruises, mark you up, baby? Or maybe I should just fuck you so hard you’ll limp, and every time you sit down you’ll remember just who it is you belong to.”  
  
You give a loud, choked moan. Fuck, does he even know what he does to you?? You increase your pace just slightly and splutter out a high-pitched, shaky “G-gonna cum.”  
  
“Good,” John hisses into your ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth. “Cum for me.”  
  
That was too much. With a final weak cry of John’s name, you’re gone, coming in thick spurts on both of your chests. “Cum inside me, John,” you lightly bite his collarbone, whispering breathlessly, “show me again I’m yours.”  
  
Suddenly he flips you over so that you’re pinned under him on the couch. “You _are_ mine, you fucking piece of shit. You’re a goddamn slut for me, aren’t you? Can’t get enough?” He guides your hips upwards and slams into you, and you squeak, covering your mouth to muffle a small moan. His face tells you he’s just about there, so to push him to the edge, you give him a half-smirk and whisper, “C'mon, babe, I want you to fuck me senseless.” He twitches, and then crashes his lips to yours as he finishes.  
  
You’re both panting hard, and your kisses and gestures are much more gentle, more deliberate now. You run a hand through his hair as he softly bumps his nose to yours.  
  
“Hi,” he smiles a little.  
  
“Hey,” you reply breathlessly.  
  
The sound of the apartment door opening makes both of you jump. “Guess who brought pizza for his favourite lil’ br―hoooly shit.”  
  
You don’t even have to tell him twice. “Bro, get the _fuck_ out!” you scream. John’s face is literally a tomato. He quietly whispers a tiny “oh my god,” and covers his face with his hands.  
  
You can hear Bro’s hysterical laughing from the other side of the door. You can already taste the blackmail.  
  
It’s gonna be a long week.


	2. couchback mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> edging and voyeurism. and gay cowboy movies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK BACK (BACK)  
> BACK AGAIN GAIN (GAIN)  
> POMA'S BACK BACK (BACK)  
> TELL A FRIEND FRIEND (FRIEND)
> 
> (by the way, if you know me as something like hypocrates, vunterslauche, or poma, then THATS ME! i change my username a lot, but now its econony. sorry BARACK obana.)
> 
> okay, so it's been, what, over 2 years? i stopped being a homestuck for a while, but then, out of nowhere, i caught up and now am fully emotionally invested in it. you know what i'm also emotionally invested in? my old otp, johndave. and although we're in the midst of canon davekat, this thing got like 60+ kudoses or something and so i was like "sure, why not, i'll write more porn." gg, poma.
> 
> @homestuck: i wish i knew how to quit you.

“No,” you say with a wicked little grin, and lightly push Dave back into the couch.

“What— the fuck..?” Dave breathes, puffy-lipped and glassy-eyed.

You’ve been making out all evening, basically, because Dad’s at a conference for the whole weekend, and when Dave heard that he practically begged you to let him stay over. Of course you agreed with more than enthusiasm, and it’s only Friday night. You’ve already eaten order-in pizza– more than enough stuffed-crust pepperoni to feed a small community– and in the middle of the Terribad Movie Monstrosity Marathon you promised him, Dave’s taken his own damn initiative to start the sloppiest of makeouts, which, with his braces, is pretty fucking gross sometimes, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like them. Anyway, he is definitely getting ahead of himself– after all, you have the whole weekend. Greedy son of a bitch.

You can see that Dave is already very hard in his idiotic skinny jeans, which makes your prankster’s gambit soar that much higher. “I said, no,” you repeat calmly and quietly, as if you’re speaking to a petulant toddler. “I’m going to call the shots around here, do you understand me?”

Dave swallows and shifts his hips on the couch, rubbing a hand over his mouth to wipe away the tiny bit of drool resting there. "Shit, okay," he drawls, and settles back.

"You will not speak to me like that, Dave," you say, trying to be authoritative, like, dom-authoritative, but it just comes out sounding like your dad. There's a moment of silence before you both burst out laughing. Dave holds his sides and almost tips sideways where he's sitting.

"Don't do that," Dave says breathlessly, the remnants of a leftover giggle bursting through as an afterthought, "I'm gonna burst a seam."

"Okay," you laugh, patting his cheek, "but shut the fuck up, okay?"

"Kay."

You've got him right where you want him now: sitting and expectant, but unaware as hell. You lean in to kiss him again and his lips move right back into action as you palm him through his jeans. He whispers a _fuck_ against your lips, and you only squeeze his dick, making him gasp. He reaches up to circle his arms around your neck, but you push him back and sit in the armchair across from him. “Listen,” you say, “you’re not gonna touch yourself, and you’re not gonna touch me. You’re gonna sit there and watch me, okay?”

“Uh-huh,” he says with a whimper, sitting on his hands.

You take your dick out and start pumping it, watching Dave intently. He’s shaking already, and you’re probably enjoying this too much, but anyway. You let your other hand wander up from your lap, up your shirt and rubbing at your chest and stomach. You’re really putting on a show for Dave, and he knows it, so he’s scowling at you from on the couch, shifting his hips around and thrusting into the air every so often.

“Wow, Dave,” you laugh, “you’re really going crazy! Are you okay?”

“Fff-fuck you, just fuck you,” he gasps, letting his head loll back to touch the wall. “Come on, asshole.”

“Haha, no! I think not,” you reply. “Keep your eyes on me! I’ll tell you when you can come.” He groans loudly when you say the word ‘come’ and you’re just grateful that your dad is away, because sound travels so well in this house. While it’s great for when you play the piano, it makes this kind of stuff rare at your house.

Dave finally looks back over at you, swallows, and lets his mouth hang open, his chapped lips puffy and bitten. You grin at him and jerk yourself harder, allowing yourself a small moan. Dave may be mad at you, but he’s so hot like this, desperate and sitting on his own hands to control himself.

You feel like Dave’s had enough of this, and you join him on the couch, pulling his cock from his skinny jeans. He gasps and whines, and his toes curl in his mismatched socks as he scream-whispers _thank you thank you thank you_. You lean down to kiss his neck while you stroke him lightly, precum dripping from his dick at a constant rate. Whenever you feel him about to come, you make a tight ring with your index and thumb around the base of dick, which only makes him scream with frustration. You do this three or four times, until he pleads you to stop.

“John,” he moans, high and breathy, “I can’t take this no more, come on, shit, I gotta come,” he drawls. His adorable Texan brogue always comes out when he’s this turned on, and fuck if it doesn’t stir you in the right ways. The _John_ sounds more like a _Jahwn_ and you laugh against his neck.

“Suck my dick and then you can come,” you say, nipping at his jaw, and he nods dazedly, urgently pushing you to the very left of the couch so he can blow you. Dave’s so talented with his tongue, and within minutes you’re close to coming, Dave’s tongue swirling expertly around your frenulum and occasionally stroking what he can’t get in his mouth. When he moans around your dick, your orgasm startles you, and you yell out with surprise, carding a hand through his soft, blond hair.

He pulls his mouth off after you’re done and he swallows, chest heaving, and you quickly sit up to give him what you promised him. “You’ve done so well, Dave,” you whisper into his ear, quickly stroking his dick. “Come for me, babe, come on, you’re so good for me. I love you.” He comes almost instantaneously, screaming silently, grabbing your t-shirt as he shakes violently with his orgasm.

You fall backwards together and you kiss him chastely, an agape-ass little peck on his lips. You glance over at the soft glow of the TV, and _Brokeback Mountain_ is playing now, probably from the Terribad suggestion queue.

“I wish I knew how’ta quit you,” Dave says in a purposeful Texan drawl, and you lightly punch his arm, laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just realized i wrote couch sex for both chapters so far. next time i'll spice it up a little, i promise. (╥_╥)


End file.
